Serendipity
by OliviaHills
Summary: Fresh off the plane from Fresno, good graces land her the house of her dreams, and for almost nothing; but when Marlene discovers her neighbors are 'covert operatives', it's a wonder she didn't get the house free with her insanity. Marlene/Skipper.
1. Welcome Home

Disclaimer: I do not own the Penguins series.

You know, I feel like this idea is a bit overused, but whatever; I wanna take a shot at it. Besides, I love animal-humanized fics, and I don't feel like there are enough of them.

Summary: Fresh off the plane from Fresco, California, Marlene Sullivan, young, career-bound and full of enthusiasm discovers a great place for sale; awesome location, cute for the first time house owner, and a quiet, scenic location in upstate Manhattan. Of course, as she gets acquainted with the house, she of course get friendly with the neighbors; and she soon finds out why the house was so damn cheap.

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><p>01: Welcome Home.<p>

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><p>"It's <em>perfect<em>!"

A sense of relief washed over her as two months of endless searching, weeks of smelling like cigarette smoke and cat urine (a delectable smell that drove the guys wild) thanks to her temporary roommate Aunt Gertie, and looking at dozens upon dozens of almost-habitable apartments and houses that couldn't quite make the cut (i.e. bloodstains on the carpet, sex offender neighbor, hole in drywall from crazy lady that liked the taste) finally came to a conclusion as the beautiful ranch house stood tall in front of her, waiting for someone to make a claim to it. And Marlene Sullivan, fresh out of college, starry eyed and ready to take on the world, would be the one to claim.

She heard a chuckle behind her, and saw from the corner of her eye, a six-foot giant looming next to her, "You like the house, yes?"

"Correction; I love the _house_," she chuckled, elbowing the English Real-Estate agent in his bony arm; he simply stared at the delighted girl, eyes rolling at the lame joke, "it's amazing. Great size, awesome location…heck, even the neighbors are drywall-free!"

Her companion raised a brow, "Excuse me_?_"

Marlene laughed, shrugging her shoulders to shake the comment off, "No, no…nothing," Mason remained silent, and the giddy buyer continued, "It's just I had a few experiences with…some weird neighbors."

Speaking of, the houses were awfully quiet for such a beautiful Saturday afternoon; at least twenty houses dotted the little neighborhood. She expected at least one of them to contain a child—Marlene whirled her head around, trying to spot any sign of kids or adolescents enjoying a weekend outside or with friends, but the streets and the yards were silent. She turned back, eyeing the neighboring house over, when a blind closed.

"Erm…define weird neighbors_, _friend." he said, thick accent giving the four words a minute to mull in Marlene's mind. She turned back to the agent, sighing as she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye.

"I mean_ weird_ neighbors," not well known for her skills of elaboration, Marlene, held up her palms, gesturing to the cul-de-sac with one hand, "y'know…once sex offenders. People with, like thirty cats. NAMBLA enthusiasts. Eating walls. Freaky, unnatural things like that."

The British man laughed heartily, patting Marlene on the back, "What a crafty list, though I must remind you that every one of us has a freaky thing we like to do, yes?" the college grad didn't respond, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to give Mason the recognition for his right-ness, "but those extremes of freaky? None that I know of in this neighborhood; after all, I live here."

"Huh?"

This time it was Marlene's turn to raise a brow, and Mason once again laughed, "The house right over there. I share it with my…erm, brother, Phil," he pointed to a house at the far end of the street, with a pretty blue coloring and two nice cars parked in the driveway, "I've been here all my life; I can assure you, no weird neighbors reside here."

He opened his mouth, and as Marlene leaned in to listen to his words of wisdom, he clamped it shut, staring at the house parallel to her own and suddenly receding back in his shell. It seemed like he had much more to say after the sentence was over…now he simply watched the possible buyer, taking in her every move, her personality, even her presence, as a candidate for the new owner of a house. A full minute passed by, and she turned back to the Ranch, waiting for Mason to come to her.

"So, when will you be coming to unpack?"

And come to her he did.

"I reckon it'll be another week or so," she shuddered, the smell of cat piss and smoke already clogging her nostrils; she turned back to Mason, and pushed him towards the car, suddenly excited to get all the paperwork done as soon as possible, so she would never have to see another cat for as long as she lived, "I'll get the money today, and sign the papers; I'll be off in no time. So let's go sell us a house, shall we?"

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><p><em>Three Weeks Later; December 16<em>

Two weeks before Christmas, she sat in the house, no creature or neighbor stirring, except for that mouse in the attic that always skittered around in the late hours of the night (she'd have to talk with Mason about that), and the stocking was hung by the chimney with care, though she didn't expect Santa Clause to be coming _there_...

"Why am I thinking in rhyme?" Proud new home owner Marlene murmured, pinning the last of the red ribbon on her mailbox. A full five days had passed, and thankfully, no incidents had arose; granted it had only been a school week so far, but so far so good.

She stood back, eyeing over her work with a proud smile, before the winter gale blew the decoration off the mailbox and into the snow-laden driveway of the neighbor on her right. Marlene cursed inwardly; she could've bet money that the bow was tied on tight. A sigh left a short breath hanging in the freezing air, and as she trudged through the past snowfall, she heard a door shut.

"Hello neighbor!"

The girl brightened almost instantly; there hadn't been a sign or proof that anyone but Mason (who brought her a little assorted fruits basket he made with his brother Phil on her first day) and herself actually occupied the houses, though she saw all the cars in the driveway and heard doors shutting, and voices talking to one another. Marlene turned, the dimpled smile occupying almost a whole half of her face suddenly drooping down, losing its vigor. A fellow home-owner did stand in front of her…but…

"Why aren't you wearing a coat?" she questioned; he had on a short sleeved shirt and a blue pair of shorts, and though Marlene wasn't accustomed to the rules of this neighborhood, she was sure _Soffe _shorts and tank-tops topped the universal '_What not to wear in the dead of winter' list,' _"Or pants, or gloves, or mittens, or scarves, or…you get my point, don't you?"

"Ha-ha! I do not understand your concern, my new lady-friend," Marlene took the moment to notice the man's tanned skin, and deep, untraceable accent as he continued to ramble, "This is what all we _Malagasies _wear in the frosty-chilly season."

"Malagasies? You're really from Madagascar?"

He chuckled lightly, placing a tanned hand on her shoulder, "There is only one Madagascar, my absent-minded lady-neighbor, and I am from there. In fact, my mother, father, aunt, uncle, grandmamma, granddaddy, great-aunt, great-uncle—"

"Alright, alright, your whole family is from there, I get it!" She cut him off before he could get too in depth with the family tree, "But I have a quick question…um…"

"Julian!" He bowed, kissing the back of Marlene's hand, "but you may call me King Julian, if you wish. Or Julian the almighty, Julian the great, Julian the amazing—"

"_I get it_."

"Etcetera." He finished.

She waited, arms crossed in front of her chest until she really knew his tangent was over, and continued, clearing her breath so Julian would be reminded not to, "Julian, where are the rest of the neighbors? It's like this place is a ghost town—cul-de-sac. Does anybody else…live here?"

"Of course there are others!" he prattled excitedly, nearly scaring the pants off of Marlene, "there are the two brothers, Bada and Bing I think, Big Burt, the quiet, three-hundred pound man, Diedrich Rodes, a nasty man, call him the 'rat king' and Joey, that douchebaggy Australian 'bloke' and …"

Marlene nodded, "That many people, huh? Then why don't I ever see them?"

"Ms. Lady, I am not the answer provider," he shrugged, glancing to and fro at the houses, and she could see the lights filtering in from the windows, "maybe everyone is shy. Oh yeah, I forgot to be mentioning your other neighbors, the Skipper and his crew. You should be the staying away…they are a bit psychotic, even in this neighborhood."

"Huh?" She turned to the house next to her, with the driveway that still sported her fallen red bow, turned around to ask Julian what he meant by that, and simply saw the back of his head.

"What do you mean by that?" she shouted. Julian turned back for a quick second, and shrugged her off.

"You will be knowing soon!"

And with that, he closed the door, leaving a confused, cold and bowless Marlene standing awkwardly in her driveway. She sighed, blowing a chilly gust of air behind her as she trudged through the snow, bending down to retrieve the discarded decoration.

She looked at the house one more time, and saw the blinds snap shut.


	2. Meet The Neighbors

Disclaimer: I do not own the Penguins Characters.

Thanks all for the positive feedback on the last chapter, and I hope for that positivity to continue with this one. In it, Marlene will be celebrating the joys of the Yuletide season, meeting her new neighbors, and finding out why you should always check to see if the stove is off before you leave. Also, Marlene's childhood will be briefly touched upon.

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><p>02: Meet The Neighbors.<p>

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><p>…<em>I really can't stay—<em>

_-but baby it's cold outside—_

"_I've got to go away_…" she sang along at an earsplitting volume, tossing the spaghetti in the pot effortlessly and placing the tongs on the counter, bustled away to ready her outfit for Gloria's dinner party. Her ecstasy could be felt through the neighborhood; finally, three weeks of getting acquainted with her fellow persons had passed, and mostly everyone that lived in the small cul-de-sac had seen, talked, or met her. She ran into Burt Barlestein, a gentle man topping three-hundred pounds at the supermarket, buying cans for underprivileged children. Doris Eves, a lithe blonde that lived adjacent to Marlene, invited her to go clubbing. And even Joey Maloney, a grumpy 'bloke' from down under slid her a few pointers about the mixed ensemble of the neighborhood. And finally, Gloria Merkowitz and her husband Melman invited the cast to a Christmas get-together at their place; the cast including her.

"_This really has been_…" slipping off the shirt and pants, she pulled a slim maroon dress over her form, untying her braided hair and letting it fall onto her shoulders as she hummed the words of the holiday classic, "_so very nice_…"

Marlene adorned the matching red pumps (though her face and the floor almost became acquainted as she struggled to put the damn things on) and putting the final touches on her makeup and outfit, she turned off the lights to her room. The clicking of her heels was the only sound in the empty ranch, as she made her way through the living room and into the abandoned kitchen. She put the meal on the stove to wrap when she came home, to eat another day; the party had been a complete surprise to her, and she had just recently found out after making a piping hot batch of spaghetti, but Marlene wasn't much complaining, not when the prospect of new acquaintances and new adventures awaited her.

'_-I ought to say no, no, no sir-'_

'_-Mind if I move in closer—' _

Subconsciously, the words to the song spilled from her lips as she tidied up the residue in the living room from lazy nights past. Of course she didn't expect company, but, like her mother, she always loved a clean, neat house to come home to after a long night out, and, like the song, the need to clean so a spotless home would be awaiting her, had been engraved into her subconscious since her early years.

'_Would Mom be proud, or what?_' she thought, gazing over her foyer with pride, though she felt a small wave of melancholy wash over her. Looking over her living room, her kitchen, the whole _damn _house, Marlene knew in her heart that her mother was up there, somewhere, so proud of her daughter for going to pursue a life of her own instead of being dragged into the slum life like her dear dad; the thought of her father, wallowing in debt and probably incarcerated again actually appeared so quickly it brought tears to her eyes, but she wiped them away with a smooth arm.

"No crying tonight, Marlene," she warned herself, clicking the lights to the foyer off, "not tonight."

The kitchen was the only room still brightly lit; the holiday music still filled the otherwise silence with its upbeat and merry tunes, and as she finally plunged the kitchen into darkness, even that had to end.

_'-I really can't stay—'_

_'—baby don't hold out_—'

"_Oh_," the song stopped abruptly, and Marlene, grabbing her jacket and keys, locked the door behind her, still singing along even as the freezing gust nipped at her legs, "_but it's cold out-side_…"

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><p>"Subject twenty-six approaching the Merkowitz residence," she walked along the path, her lips mouthing what was most likely a pesky song that got stuck in her head, and he quickly scribbled down a few key points on the worn paper, "sporting a purse, heels, low cut dress—"<p>

He managed to hold back a yelp as the binoculars were yanked away from him, and he was nearly tossed from his lookout point by a heavier, stronger being. Said being had completely commandeered his visuals, and let out a low whistling sound as he pulled some of the blinds back to look out the window.

"Hubba hubba-"

"Settle down, soldier," the two turned at the exact same time, and instantly the larger man handed the binoculars back to the lanky lookout, snatching them back with a content look on his face; the captain watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, brushing his jet black hair out of his eyes, "for all we know, she could have the cold, unfeeling soul of a Dane."

"Negative, Skipper," the lanky man disagreed, flipping through past pages before he finally settled on the one he searched for, "we may not know much about our new neighbor, but from tapped calls, we have figured out her name is Marlene Sullivan; definitely no Danish name. And we believe she comes somewhere from the West coast. California, I believe."

The leader, Skipper, nodded in satisfaction, "The best news I've heard all day. Has she any connections with the Doctor?"

"Negative."

"Well, good," a second time he nodded, grasping the binocular's out of the other's hands and cracking a single blind; from a distance, he watched as the new neighbor shook hands with Melman and Gloria, watched as she was suddenly blindsided by a giddy, already party-crazy Julien, and shook his head, "let's see how long she lasts."

"She looks like she spooks easily, sir. I calculate another two weeks before she decides to re-pack."

"I like her."

Quieter, more reserved footsteps made the floorboards creak, though very slightly. The leader didn't pry his eyes away from the party as a piece of yellow hair was caught in his vision, and someone beside him opened the window a tad, looking out to the alight house of the Merkowitz wordlessly.

"You like everyone, Private. "

The kid glared, crossing his arms, "But she seems nice."

"Private, if I trusted everyone based on how they seem, I'd be dead about now." Skipper shot back, patting the cadet on his head with love, "Never trust on appearance. For now, we'll just wait; for all we know, she could be a Russian spy in disguise, waiting for us to approach her so she could trap us in her web of communism."

"She isn't a spider, Skipper."

"I know. But it was a damn good analogy, wasn't it?"

And with those few words, he walked out of the room, busying himself with whatever a leader had to busy himself with. Rico followed after, at the sound of his stomach growling for food, and Kowalski after him, mumbling something about automatic Snow Cone shooters. Always with the snow-cones, that crazy guy.

And then there was one; quietly (he did everything so quietly, all the time) Private grabbed Kowalski's binoculars, slightly prying open a blind with his finger. He sighed to himself, as the sounds of music and laughter and happiness filled up the silent room. He wished he could go over there and dance, just have fun and socialize, to not be cooped up in the same house with the same people on the same missions-

_Same, same same_.

Finally, Private set the thing down, suddenly too downtrodden to listen to the music of others, or the laughter of other's joy; he padded across the room, shutting the door, and the blind clicked back into place.

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><p>It was to her understanding that there was only one relative of Julien; and that was Julien.<p>

"Marlene," he drawled in his native tongue, pointing to two relatively same-sized people, though she could tell one was significantly older than the other, "I would like to be introducing you to my cousin, Maurice," the older man, much darker than Julien, waved, "and his nephew…Mort." The younger waved his little hand back and forth, big eyes alight in pure delight, and Marlene managed to choke back an aw at the cute action.

"How'y doin ma'am?" she slightly bent down to reach Maurice's extended hand, surprised he had the accent of someone who spent their entire life in the Bronx; he must've known she was going to ask, because as her mouth opened, he interjected with a smile, "we've been living here for quite some time now. Long enough for me to drop the accent and learn English. He had just as much time as me to learn," he gestured over to a preoccupied Julien, trying to flirt with an annoyed Doris, who ended up soaked in punch a second after, "as you can see, he didn't give it much of a try."

"Shocker."

"Hello, new pretty neighbor!" Marlene jumped, suddenly startled as a small thing jumped near her, and before she had time to raise her leg and kick it away, it latched on, "my name is Mort! I like singing and butterflies and rainbows and mangos and cantaloupe and piñatas and cocoa and snow and parties-"

"We get it, you little freak!" Julien cried, throwing his arms in the air; for a moment, it seemed as if tears dotted at the corner of the boy's eyes, but a minute passed by, and the tears were replaced by a wide grin. He trotted away, probably to get some more sugary-punch, when Marlene felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey, girl," Gloria, a hefty but softhearted woman of thirty three waved, and the girl waved back, "how's the party?"

"Great!" She had suddenly been dragged away to meet Julien's relatives, but other than that, it had been going pretty swell; the twins Baron and Barney, nicknames Bada and Bing introduced themselves to her, and Alex and Marty, two best friends that lived way on the other side of the neighborhood told her about their experiences with rogue boats, and how they had all accidentally boarded a ship headed to Madagascar; she listened from beginning to end in awe, "there was actually a lot of people I didn't know."

"Tell me about it," Melman, the sickly accountant that Gloria found herself happily married to agreed, rolling his eyes, "you think you would know this neighborhood, right? Turns out there were actually a few people I didn't know existed, including you; I almost burn the whole house down while making the food!"

"It's true; he left a burner on and his 'kiss the cook' cloth went on fire. It took two buckets of—"

"Burner?" the gears began to whirr in her head, and she looked through the married couple, staring at the dark-skinned girl with confused eyes. She remembered making the spaghetti, taking it out of the bowl and putting tin-foil over it to save for another day, but the flame, she didn't remember ever touching the damn flame—

"_Burner_!" She darted away, leaving a puzzled Melman and a concerned Gloria calling her name, but she had no time to look back; no, not when she could already smell the smoke in the air, feel the heat of the fire as it engulfed her house in its blazing grip, leaving her with nothing except the apartment filled with the smell of cat piss and smoke to look forward to…

Outside, the cold stung at her cheeks like freezing wasps. The night was still dark, and the air still pure, and no wisp of smoke or flame of red to taint the beauty of the winter evening. And decidedly, that was the way she wanted to keep it.

Finally, she had cleared the house; only the frosty street remained between her and the burner. Marlene, so caught up in the fear of her house catching fire, did not stop to notice the mini-van coming from her right, barreling across the street. But a few party patrons, curious of her sudden departure did.

"_Marlene_!"

"Look out!"

"There's a car! _A car_!"

And suddenly, the headlights were so bright, they blinded her. It reminded the girl of paintings on church walls that deciphered heaven. They were always so pretty, so bright, so _bright_…

Something hard barreled into her, and as she just registered the sound of screaming and the honking of a still moving car, everything vanished.

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><p>I have nothing against Russians, or the Danish.<p> 


End file.
